Letters to Marceline
by beesammi
Summary: Marceline tends to find Simon's letters in random places all around. They're addressed to her, but she's not quite sure if she was ever really meant to read them. Note*** THIS IS NOT A PAIRING. I DO NOT AND NEVER WILL SHIP THE ICE KING AND MARCELINE EW.
1. Scrawlings of a Mad Man

**Hey guys! I was looking through the chapters of LTM and I noticed that my writing was terrible, so I'm updating the chapters with improved writing. Like a... Second draft. :) Thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting, following, and sticking with me while I write this mess of a story! Enjoy! :)**

**-Sam-**

_Marceline,_

_is it just you and me in the wreckage of the world? That must be so confusing for a little girl. And I know you're going to need me here with you. But I'm losing myself and I'm afraid you're going to lose me too. This magic keeps me alive, but it's making me crazy. And I need to save you. But who's going to save me? Please forgive me for whatever I do when I don't remember you._

_-Simon_

I find them now and again without warning. Sometimes they're expected, sometimes they come at random and the shock hits me all over again. I'm not sure if I was ever supposed to read them, but they keep showing up in my life. I find them in the strangest places… I always wonder how they got there. My past has a way of haunting me, I guess it's nice to remember a time where I actually had someone there for me.

_Marceline,_

_I can feel myself slipping away. I can't remember what it made me say, but I remember that I saw you frown. I swear, it wasn't me, it was the crown. This magic keeps me alive, but it's making me crazy. And I need to save you, but who's going to save me? Please, forgive me for whatever I do, when I don't remember you. Please._

_-Simon_

Sometimes, I feel good about my life and where things are, I almost feel… happy. But then the letters come back and I slip back down. Quicksand.

_Marceline,_

_I'm sorry you have to tell me everything that I forgot at the end of the day. It's getting worse, I know. But at least we're alive. This magic keeps me alive but it's killing ME. I need to save you, but who's going to save me? Please, forgive me for whatever I do, when I don't remember you. I'm sorry._

_-Simon_

I found that under Finn and Jake's floorboards.

_Marceline,_

_I really hate to see you cry, I'm doing my best to try. Remembering is just so hard lately. I really am going crazy. But I need to save you. I don't even care if anyone saves me. Please just forgive me for whatever I do when I don't remember you. You are so much stronger than me. I'm proud of you._

_-Simon_

I can't sleep.

Bolt my eyes shut and try to swallow slumber. But all I taste is broken dreams and shattered family portraits and wizard eyes flashing.

So I lie awake, sleepless. My room is shrouded in nighttime blue and the skeletons knock on the closet door, threatening to break through. I try to stay sane and watch spiders knit my secrets into their webs while ghosts leak through the cracks in the windows. But then I realize there are no skeletons, knitting spiders, or leaky ghosts and that I am all alone, but ridden with nightmares.

I am a little girl scared to sleep alone, but with no mom or dad to crawl in to bed with. The skeletons, spiders, and ghosts could all be real and there would be no one to protect me.

Maybe I'm the one who's nuts.

_Marceline,_

_I'm sorry._

Bubblegum was the only one who real understood how I feel. But even she couldn't carry my burden forever. And just like everyone else, she got tired of putting up with me and left. I drive everyone away, everyone I care about. People try to help, but maybe I don't want them to come in. All they do is trytrytrytohelp while I just pushpushpushaway. How stupid I must've been to think that Bubblegum would stick around. How stupid I must've been to think that she could lift all of my baggage.

Now I'm just her problem.

_Marceline,_

_I'm proud of you for being so strong. You aren't the same as the timid little girl I found crying among the rubble._

Dad doesn't care either, but he likes to play house. We pretend that I am everything he ever wanted, a blood-sucking, soul-crunching demon spawn who wants to be just like daddy when she grows up, and we pretend like he cares about me. He says I should stop acting so human, I say he should stop acting like he's my dad.

_Marceline,_

_I'm sorry. I tried to save you. I'm still trying. Because there's no one left to save me._

_-Simon_

I want to forget so bad. I try to be happy, but every time something finally goes my way, something bad happens. Hambo's gone, and so is Simon. The only thing I have left is Ice King, a mere shell of the man who was once my hero. I like to think that deep down, Simon Petrikov is still there, the real him. Whispers in the back of my mind constantly say _he's gone for good, there really is no one left to save him, _but I can't let myself hear that.

You did save me. Sometimes I wish you didn't. Believe me, I never wanted to end up alone. Neither did you. When you finally lost it, I used to imagine one day I could find a big crown just like yours and forget everything just like you, and then we could be nuts together. But after I saw how far off the deep end you went, I never want to be just like you.

I'm sorry I couldn't save you.

I'm sorry we couldn't save your princess.

_Marceline,_

_I can't remember._

_-Simon_


	2. He Just Doesn't Care

_**I really just felt like this story felt unfinished, and a couple of people wanted more, so her you go... It's sloppy I know please forgive me.**_

He dumps the load of ingredients into the washing machine and wait for an effect. The mixture turns dark red like the book said it should, and he smiles. But a frown appears when the potion starts bubbling.

_That's not right… _He turned around and leaned against the washing machine, book in hand. He flipped the book to it's bookmarked page to reread the instructions, to see where went wrong. He blew the white hair from his face to concentrate, but it only went back to it's original place, hanging down the middle of his profile, tickling his forehead gently. He scrunched his eyebrows together in frustration as he read the end of the recipe.

**Must wait 5 minutes for mixture to cease fizzling.**

_For serious? I have to wait 5 minutes for a stupid growth potion? Being a wizard sucks. _He huffed in self pity and threw the book to the ground. He didn't like waiting, at all. In fact, he hated waiting. Speaking of waiting, when was that sandwich gonna be finished? He could really use something to eat while he was waiting for this stupid potion to finish outside in the cold. He deserved a good sandwich. Especially since his girlfriend wouldn't let him make potions inside. (I guess she didn't like the way they stunk up the house or something.) But since she was just so slow at making sandwiches, he sat alone. Hungry. In the cold. Leaning against a broken washing machine. Wallowing in self pity. Poor boy. Maybe he wouldn't be so cold if he wore something besides t-shirts with the sleeves chopped off. Just a thought.

He glanced at the ground for no particular reason. It was dark out so there wasn't much to look at besides a shining cricket chirping in the shelter of the overgrown grass that he nor his girlfriend could really care less about mowing. Suddenly, he heard the sound of paper rustling and looked toward the beat up fence. A worn piece of paper was caught on a jagged edge. Out of boredom more than curiosity, he walked towards where the paper was stuck. His black shoes made no noise as they trudged over the wet grass towards the fence. He snatched up the piece of paper and plopped down on the dewey ground before reading.

_Marceline,_

_We haven't known each other for long, but I've never met a little girl as clever as you. You are such a bright, strong-minded girl. You will go very far in life, I know that you are destined for great things. I just hope that you can still learn right from wrong even after I'm gone. Hey, that rhymed! But I know you might think you're not good enough, because your father isn't around, you have to remember what an amazing little girl you really are. Don't ever let anybody push you around or tell you what to do because you're worth more than that. I've let too many people push me around in life and I've made too many mistakes. Life isn't long enough for them all. I just hope I can teach you not to make the same mistakes as I did. Wow, I sound like I'm your father. I guess we really have become our own little family through all this mess, haven't we? You, me, Hambo. Best family I've known._

_Never give up,_

_Simon_

He scoffs in confusion. What did he even just read?

"Ash, your sandwich is ready!" She called from inside the house, her voice floating out through the screen door.

"About time, Marceline!" Ash called in response. Then, he pulled himself up from the ground and stuffed the letter sloppily in his pocket. He walked up the back porch steps, leaving his potion for tomorrow. The pressure of the crumpled up letter in his too-tight-pant's pocket against his leg made it so Ash didn't forget about the letter addressed to his vampire girlfriend.

And he never gave it to her.


	3. Selfish Magic

**Basically… I have no idea what I'm doing and everything has been sloppy so far so I'm going to try to put more effort into the story ok? Ok. Well keep in mind that this story's timeline is going to jump all over the place. So I hope I don't confuse you? Well thanks for reading.**

_Sometimes, people are tested and they fail._

"Margles… I wish you were here."

_They are given a chance, but they do not take it._

"The whole thing with the volcano… that was dumb. So stupid… But it was all your idea."

_A door opens, and they walk away._

"Really, it's not even my fault."

_They are too stubborn to try._

"You're the one to blame. I don't even need you…" Magic Man tosses the picture into the hole he's dug in the dirt. He pushes a handful of dirt into the divot, but quickly reaches in and pulls the picture back out. Magic Man brushes off the dirt covering Margle's face and whispers sorrysorrysorry into the frame. He pulls it gently from the Earth, the stained paper appears to be a letter. He lets the picture of him and Margles slip out of his hand and hit the ground, the glass cracks a bit.

_Marceline,_

_There isn't much time left for me, before I am really gone. I can tell that I am losing my mind. I just can't hold things in my head for long until I can't recall them at all. I always thought that there was some kind of hope for me, that I could still recover. But now I know that I won't. Can you believe how much the world has changed? Everything is turning crazy now, including me. Before the war, Ooo would be something only read of. I wish I could keep the memory of how the world was before. But it's disappearing, fuzzy in my brain and slowly fading until now is the only thing I know. I feel like I'm going blind. But don't worry Marceline, I promised you we would find your dad and we will. Someone has to take care of you once I'm gone._

_Simon_

"What a stupid letter, right Margles?" Magic Man pretends there was a response and continues. "I know that Marceline. This letter's probably important or something." He pauses. "You're right, maybe I should find her… Give her the letter… She's lost someone too…" Magic Man looks around in panic. "Margles? Margles, where are you?! Where'd you-" He glances at the ground. "Oh." He picks up the cracked photo and smiles. "Don't scare me like that, Margles." He mutters sillygirlsillygirlsillygirl under his breath, and frowns. "Why should I listen to you? You're not real, you're dead, silly girl. You're not talking, it's not real." imnotcrazyimnotcrazyimperfec tlysaneimnotcrazy it runs through his brain over and over in an infinite loop, while another voice says thisisnotnormalyouarecrazyyo uneedtolearn.

He bursts into tears. "Margles, I'm so sorry I shouldn't have said that. It's not true, it's not it's not. Please forgive me Margles I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you." He frantically looks around and Marceline is walking by, gently strumming her bass as she walks. Magic Man glances towards the letter and thisishischancetofinallydoso methingright. He doesn't even have to think about it, he knows what to do. He snaps his green fingers and turns the letter into a tall sunflower.

"That's for you, Margles. An apology present. It's almost as beautiful as you."


	4. Thank You

"Ok, ok." Princess Bubblegum spreads the plaid blanket over the small table and smooths out the wrinkles. Marceline smirks from where she sits on the counter.

"Nice tablecloth." She remarks sarcastically. The blanket used to be blue and white checkerboard, but now it's just white. The edges ripped and frayed, and the whole thing covered in dust. "Where'd you even find that?" Marceline coughs.

"I found it in the back of your closet, I thought it looked nice…" Bubblegum pouts. "I don't think you're appreciating what I'm doing for you." She folds her arms in discontent.

"I never asked for this. I didn't ask you to come over, and I didn't ask you to cook a freakin' 9 course meal either!" Marceline snaps.

"It's not 9 courses, it's steak. Sorry I guess." Bubblegum turns back to her dish and continues cooking in silence. Marceline sighs heavily and picks at a stray thread hanging from her sweater. She tries to speak, say something worth the oxygen. But the words are stuck on her tongue. _I'msorryforbeingajerkyoureactu allyreallyniceandsweetandtha nksfortryingtomakemehappy. _But the words are stuck on her tongue.

Bubblegum knows she's being irrational, that she has to be considerate of Marceline's feelings, after all she's been through, she knows she should be more patient. But she isn't.

So no one says anything for awhile. But that's okay, the silence between them is never awkward. It's just there.

Bubblegum is the first to speak again, a faint question coming from the stove.

"What?" Marceline asks.

"I said, where's Ash? Doesn't he know this is important to you?"

"Oh. I don't really know, he said he couldn't make it." Marceline says coolly.

"And you still blow me off for that asshole every time." Bubblegum mutters bitterly.

"What?"

"Nothing. Dinner is served!" Bubblegum puts on a bright smile and carries two plates to the table. They both sit and begin to much quietly on the attempt of a Thanksgiving Dinner that Princess Bubblegum has made.

"Bubs, want me to tell you a Thanksgiving story?" Marceline smiles when Bubblegums eyes light up. She was always so eager to hear Marceline's stories about the world before the war. So Marceline recited the story she had been telling Bubblegum for years about the Pilgrims and the Indians while they nibbled on overcooked steak.

After they finish their meal, they laughter bounces back and forth between them while they clean everything up and Bubblegum folds up the beat up blanket and brings it back to the closet where she found the dusty old thing. When she swings open the door, the entire closet's contents spills before her. Marceline runs to see what happened, laughing while Bubblegum stutters an apology for messing everything up. Bubblegum picks up an old backpack to put it back in the closet, and a piece of paper flutters out and floats to the floor. Marceline has an aching feeling as she bends down to pick up the piece of paper, and Bubblegum winces because _pleaseIdon'twanthertogothroughthisagain . _They both know it's a letter, but neither of them want it to be.

_Marceline,_

_I'm sorry we couldn't eat turkey this year. But thank you for sticking with me all this time. _

_Simon_

How funny, that they should find a letter written on that exact holiday.

Bubblegum is Marceline's shoulder to cry on, hugging her and telling her "Marcy, it'll be okay…"

She hates when Marceline cries.


	5. I Really Didn't Need You Here

**Hey guys! I tried to make it longer this time, and I planned for it to be longer and better, but I just really wanted to get this chapter out since I haven't updated in so long. Well sorry it's rubbish, hopefully you'll like it anyway!**

Marceline was fine.

More than fine, actually. Everyday was a new adventure, the world was new. More discoveries to be made, more adventures to be had everyday.

_still alone_

Her hair was wet and sprinkled with sand, the backs of Goldfish Beasts fresh on the soles of her shoes. How nice it was to return to her home in the trees, even if only for a short time.

_all alone in the trees_

She thrust open the squeaky door, step into the dark, dusty treehouse. She fumbled through the dark, kicking off her shoes and humming a tune. Marceline tossed her bag blindly and heard it land with a _thump._

"Oof."

She quickly snapped her fingers to light all the candles in the room and to illuminate her intruder. Oh, whoever broke into her house was gonna get it…

_that was the first time he showed up looking for her_

There he stood, short, blue, and nothing at all like the way she liked to remember.

"Marceline! I've been waiting for you to get back!"

What could she do, but stand there, mouth agape, everything she was thinking about saying evaporating into thin air.

_it had been so long_

All the memories shoved under the rug with the dirt and dust, where no one dared to look.

All the sadness folded neatly in the corner, a stack so tall it was ready to topple over with a single tap.

All the anger fallen behind the fridge, lying in silence with the dead bugs, but still alive and waiting.

But now he had to come along and drag everything back out into the open.

But Marceline was actually glad to see him.

"Simon…" She hesitated, but then pulled the blue man into a tight hug. "You finally came around."

"What-mon?" The Ice King responded confusedly.

Apparently, he hadn't come around.

"Don't you remember you?"

"Well, yes, of course I'm me, silly girl."

"But you totally forgot about being you."

"What?"

Marceline sighs heavily, sinking down into an armchair. It's plaid and dirty but it's not like she cares about quality furniture these days. She picks at a stray thread while choosing her next words carefully. Anger has crept out from behind the fridge and is about to pounce.

"Don't you remember being Simon Petrikov, destined to be the next great scientist? Don't you remember finding the enchiridion, greatest discovery made in 20 years? Don't you remember Betty, the love of your life? Your princess? How could you forget all that? How could you forget me, all alone in the city ruins? How could you forget the way you saved my life? All the times we had together? How could you forget all these important things? How could you forget something so important? I know I'll never forget. I'll never forget how you were the one who gave me my best friend, Hambo. I'll never forget the way you carried me on your shoulders when I got tired of walking. I'll never forget the way you promised to always be there for me, I'll never forget how you broke that promise. I _wish _I could forget, instead of sitting here, yelling at someone who doesn't even remember their own name!" Marceline shouts bitterly, tears screaming inside her eyes.

"What are you even rambling on about, you psycho?" The Ice King laughs. "You're nuts!" He laughs some more. "You're so nuts, you belong on a Sundae!" He can't stop laughing, his own joke was just too funny to him. He rolls on the ground laughing and laughing.

Here sits a bitter teenage vampire. There are memories pulled out from under the rug, a piled of sadness toppled over, anger cowering back behind the fridge, and a blue man laughing on the floor.

_before the war, someone would have locked him up._

"Please, get out of my house." Marceline chokes on her words.

"But, Marcy, I just wanted you to sing a song for me." The Ice King frowns, getting up from the floor.

She lashes out. "Just get out of my house you crazy old man!" She gets up from the chair and steps closer to him, her eyes sad but her hands strong.

"Don't ever come back to see me here again!" Marceline warns after shoving him out the door. "I mean it." She growls and slams the door in his face, locking it with a _click_.

Marceline closes her eyes and leans her back against the door. She sinks down to the floor and pushes her hair back in pain and frustration. At last, letting the screaming tears slide gently down her cheeks.

A note slides under the door.

_Marceline,_

_I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you this much. Or make you upset. Please forgive me._

_-Ice King_

Marceline lets out a sob and tears the note to shreds. She never wants to read it again.


	6. Screaming and Disagreements

The door flies open as she steps on to the porch, an angry Wizard comes rushing out, head in his hands. He strides right past Princess Bubblegum, who stands confused and worried on the creaking porch.

"Ash!"

The white-haired boy whirls around, clearly steaming and not in the mood for conversation. "What?" Ash hisses through clenched teeth.

"Where are you going?" Bubblegum asks, trying to act as sweet as she can. She can't fake it nearly as well as she thinks she can, though.

"Anywhere but here." He replies vaguely, fists clenched, knuckled white, hanging on tightly to his calm (but not really) attitude.

"Wow, leaving again? You really are an asshole."

Ash shrugs. "Jealous much?"

That one throws her off. She stutters and stumbles in her attempt to respond, she doesn't manage to push any words out until Ash has turned away again. He takes one step, smirking as his foot crushes down on the crunchy dirt, but then Bubblegum regains her balance.

"You don't deserve Marceline."

Ash freezes, smirk fading.

That was the moment Ash realized that he really hated Princess Bubblegum.

Teeth clenched, he uttered two words that tasted like gritty dirt and tears and bitterness.

"Fuck off."

And with that, Ash stuffed his hands in his pockets and started walking again. The stunned little pink girl standing on the porch getting farther and farther away.

She stared at the back of his hunched figure momentarily, and rushed into the house, slamming the screen door behind her. Bubblegum stormed into the living room, where she knew Marceline would be curled up on the couch with her knitting, waiting for Ash to come back from wherever he had run off to this time. Marceline looked up when Bubblegum entered the room, feet like boulders on the worn wooden floor, crashing with every step.

"Hm. Somebody's a little worked up." Marceline says coolly, knitting needles clacking softly.

"Why'd your dead-beat-boyfriend run out on you this time?" Bubblegum asks, ignoring Marceline and pacing back and forth, hand knotted tightly behind her back.

Marceline shrugs, "We got in a fight… It's ok, he'll be back in awhile…" Marceline reassures Bubblegum (but more so herself) and sets her knitting down next to her on the stained couch. She and Bubblegum stare at each other.

Bubblegum would say that Marceline looked worn out and sad.

Marceline would say that Bubblegum looked distraught and fed up.

Both are true.

Bubblegum sits down on the other side of Marceline, wrapping her pink arms around her in a tight and comforting embrace. "I'm sorry that Ash is such a jerk, Marcy."

Marceline just laughs, returning Bubblegum's hug. "Wow, you're more upset over this than I am." They both chuckle, holding the hug just a little bit longer.

Bubblegum thinks Marceline smells like strawberries.

Marceline thinks Bubblegum smells like candy.

"So you're gonna break up with Ash this time?"

Marceline pushes Bubblegum away, and looks at her in confusion.

"What? Why would I break up with him?"

"Mar, he treats you like crap. You fight all the time and he pushes you around like a shopping cart! He doesn't deserve you."

Marceline jumps up from the couch and faces Bubblegum. "You don't know anything." Marceline growls, narrowing her eyes. Bubblegum springs up from the couch as well, eye to eye with the seething vampire queen.

"It's true," Bubblegum raises her voice. "He's selfish and-and sloppy, he treats you like dirt. He pushes you around and leaves every time something doesn't go his way. Meanwhile you sit here and mope, waiting and hoping he'll come back. And when he does, you forgive him right away and pretend like nothing ever happened, I just hate to see you doing this to yourself Mar-mar, an-"

"-I'm not doing anything to myself!" Marceline interrupts, her screaming face moving closer to Bubblegum's with every exclamation point.

"You keep letting him in, when clearly he is no good for you! I can't let you do this anymore! Your relationship is terrible! You two ju-"

"-You don't know anything!" Marceline insists, an angry crease forming in between her eyebrows.

"I know that you need to break up with him! You're going to dump his sorry ass as soon as he walks through the door, or so help me-"

"-Don't." Marceline's voice is firm. The anger in their eyes pouring into each other while Marceline pauses, their noses are nearly touching. "Tell me what to do. Don't tell me how to live my life, you prissy, spoiled little princess!"

"You can't talk to me like that."

"Oh I'm sorry, your highness. Sorry I don't treat you like you're some perfect Goddess, like all your little loyal subjects do!"

Bubblegum steps back, throwing her hands up in surrender. "Fine." She whispers. "I'm done."

Marceline stands stuck in silence as she watches Bubblegum walk out the door. She stays stuck there for a moment, and then rushes to the door. She sees Bubblegum in the distance, walking away into the darkness. She hesitates for a moment, not really wanting to give in, let Bubblegum win. But Marceline decides to call out to her.

"What do you mean your done?" She shouts, trying to reach Bubblegum, who she is barely able to make out in the dark of the night.

"I mean, I'm done. I'm done trying to help you, you obviously don't want my help." Bubblegum calls back.

Silence

Marceline walks back over to the stained couch.

Silence

She throws her knitting to the floor.

Silence

She grabs a fluffy blanket, wrapping herself up like a burrito.

Silence

She is still cold.

Tears

Tears jump from Marceline's eyes, falling like she hadn't cried in ages. Loud sobs escaped her lips, slamming against the walls, seeping into the floors and leaking into the basement. She cries for herself, for Bubblegum, for Ash, for Simon.

The door creaks open quietly.

Ash walks in, still seeming slightly irritated. "I forgot my…" He sees Marceline, tear stained and cold on the couch.

"What happened?" He asks softly, sitting down next to her on the couch and wrapping his arms around her.

"Bubblegum and I got in a fight." Marceline's voice is watery.

"Why?" Ash frowns, he really doesn't like to see Marceline like this.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"If you don't want to talk about what happened, that's okay…" Ash soothes.

"I just feel so worthless. I push everyone away, to the point where they can't stand me and leave. I suck."

Ash frowns. "Marceline, listen to me," he says with a firm tone. "You are amazing. You're cool and gorgeous and funny, and I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't like you." Marceline smiles a little bit. "Maybe you do push people away, but it's not your fault… You've been hurt real bad. Screw Bubblegum, you don't need her anyway. At least I have you. I love you, Marceline, I don't know what I'd do without you. Look, I… I promise I won't just walk out like that again, I didn't mean to hurt you so bad. Bubblegum's right, I really don't deserve you… You're way too spectacular for me." Ash smiles and kisses Marceline on the cheek.

"Oh, Ash, you're such a dork." Marceline giggles, even though his whole speech made her melt. They lay there in silence for a bit, tangled in each other's limbs and Ash stroking her long, soft hair, breathing in her strawberry red scent.

"Bubblegum will come back." Ash reassures her, knowing that's what she is really worried about. "Trust me."

Ash strokes her hair until she drops off into sleep.

Ash closes his eyes and listens to the rhythm of her breathing, and falls asleep thinking of how lucky he is to have her, and how he hopes that moments like this never end.

The last thought that tiptoes through his head before he finally drifts off is how the letter he found Marceline reading is still laying torn in half on the kitchen counter.

Waiting for the morning.


	7. Rare Happiness

**Hey! So this chapter is terrible and awful but I needed to put it out there soon because... It's the stupid and cheesy Christmas special. Sorry! I couldn't resist! I made a tumblr, I also post the LTM chapters on there. You should check it out!**

the tumblr name is letterstomarceline. (Sorry, this stupid thing won't let me post an actual link.)

**Please, feel free to ask as many questions as you want about the story or whatever you want to!**

**Well, enjoy this sloppy chapter. Check out the tumblr dude! :)**

_Sitting in her prison of misery, she occasionally felt the sun leak in through the cracks in the walls._

Surprisingly enough, there are days in Marceline's life where vanishing men and stained childhoods don't cross her mind. There are times when she is happy, plenty of them, in fact.

She has good memories too.

They sat in the forest, faces illuminated by the orange glow from the fire. Marceline sat cross-legged, Hambo in her lap and Simon's jacket around her shoulders, shielding her from the chilling night air. She held a frozen waffle close to the fire, attempting to thaw her dinner. She glanced across the fire at a sleeping Simon Petrikov, twitching in his sleep. He began muttering, an unintelligible slur of sorry's and something about a Princess Betty. Simon's voice got louder and louder, crescendoing into shouts of nothing but made up words and curses.

Marceline set her waffle down. Scared, she squeezed Hambo tightly and locked her eyes shut. Tears leaking out the cracks and down her cheeks. Marceline hated yelling.

Simon sat up suddenly, hair and beard a disheveled mess.

"Marcy?"

The scared girl open her eyes, loosening her grip on Hambo.

"Simon," Marceline smiled. "You're back!"

Simon's confused expression changed to horror. Guilt filled his stomach. He never wanted Marcy to see him slip, see how scary he was becoming.

Marceline got up and walked over to where Simon was sitting, then handed him a small, cold, rock.

"What's this for?" Simon looked up at Marceline.

"It's your present, silly! Merry Christmas." Marceline grinned.

"Thank you! It's such a beautiful present!" Simon smiled and placed the stone in his backpack delicately, like it was the most valuable thing in the world. Sion looked back at her with a playful smile. "Well, Marceline, are you ready for your present?"

Marceline jumped up and down and grinned.

"Alright, here you go…." Simon dug the present out of his backpack and carefully handed it to her. Marceline snatched the red book from his blue hands, excitedly flipping through the pages.

"Why doesn't this book have any words?"

"It's a journal, for you to write whatever you want in."

Marceline plopped down on the ground and stared at the book's cover for a moment, then asked another question. "What am I supposed to write?"

"Anything you want, your thoughts, a story, you could even draw pictures if you wanted!"

They sat in silence for quite a bit, orange faces just smiling at nothing. Marceline stroked the book's spine, thinking of everything she could fill the pages up with.

Simon stared at Marceline, thinking about how special she was. Smiling at her tiny hands and tiny feet, her severed black hair sticking out all over the place.

He loved her like he would have loved his own child.

"Simon?" Marceline broke the calm silence.

"Yeah?"

"Is Santa Dead now?"

Simon, shocked, hesitated for a moment, carefully considered how he should answer.

"Uh…"

"Well, did he?"

"No, of course not, Marcy. Silly girl."

"Then why didn't he come? Was I bad this year?"

"No! Santa just.. He's just running a bit late this year…"

"So he will come?" Marceline looked hopeful.

"Uh… Yes."

"I wish Santa could help me find my dad."

Simon frowned. He knew how much Marceline wanted to find her dad, but he always hoped they would cross paths with Mr. Abadeer. In his eyes, Marceline was much better off with him, even as crazy as he was becoming, rather than that demonic freak.

He never wanted to give her up.

Simon didn't want her to succumb to her father's ways of meaningless evil.

Eventually, Marceline fell asleep next to the fire, Hambo in her arms and her new journal laying beside her. Simon quietly emptied his backpack, filled with things he had picked up in the ruins.

He didn't want Marceline to see him as a liar.

Her innocence was a candle, the wick burning down too fast. Simon would do anything to keep it lit for just a bit longer.

Marceline woke up with the sun shining through the trees, a fresh morning dew in the grass around her. She sat up and stretched, her 'blanket' (Simon's Jacket) sliding off and landing in the dewey grass. Three presents lay before her, wrapped in newspaper. She looked up at Simon, who was still wide awake, with her eyes wide and full of stars.

Simon couldn't help but smile.

"Santa came while you were asleep. Told you he was just running late."

Marceline grinned her fanged smile, pure happiness bouncing in her stomach.

"Did you get to see Santa?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. He told me that you were the nicest little girl on his list."

Marceline grinned even wider and reached for the gifts. She tore the paper off and examined the sewing kit she had uncovered. She showed it to Simon and said, "I can use this to fix Hambo's leaky arm!"

Her next gift turned out to be a purple sweater, and even though it was way too big for her, she put it on anyway, pleased with her change in attire.

Her final gift, she unwrapped slowly, and carefully.

"What's taking you so long?" Simon pestered playfully.

"I… Don't want it to be over."

From the paper, she pulled out 3 red, feathery pens. Marceline smiled.

"Now I can write in the journal!"

Simon laughed at her adorable enthusiasm, and he and Marceline decided to keep everything in his backpack for safekeeping, right back where they came from.

Marceline giggled to herself, walking next to Simon on the way to a new campsite. He looked down at her.

"What's so funny?" He questioned.

"Nothing, it's just, I was thinkin' 'bout how you kinda' look like Santa Clause."

Simon laughed, a under-used cackle ringing form his throat. He hoisted Marceline on top of his shoulders.

"I guess I kind of do!"


	8. Friends

**Sorry I haven't updated in a bit! Any questions about the story? Go to my ask box on tumblr! I will answer all of them! :)**

**the tumblr is letterstomarceline (Sorry the site doesn't let me put links in the story)**

She stares out the window, a letter wrinkled in her tight grasp. The letter however, is not what is dancing through her mind right now.

The day they met is crystal clear in her mind, she can almost smell the crisp Autumn air. Marceline was a mess of tangled black hair, her bass hung round her neck, music swimming through her fingers. Her music lured someone to the tall apple tree guarding her form the sun. A pink, candy girl stood before Marceline, bright-eyed and curious-looking, with thick, silky hair that looked good enough to nibble on. Especially to Marceline, pink was such a sweet shade of red.

"Hello, there."

"What are you playing?" The pink girl's eyes shined with curiosity.

"Oh uh, my bass guitar."

"No, I mean what song."

"Oh, I wrote it myself." Marceline imaged how good the pink would taste on her tongue.

"It's uh- I mean… You're uh… You're really good." The pink girl smiled and looked down at the grass.

Marceline blushed. "Oh, thanks, I uh… Yeah… Thanks." Marceline went back to playing again.

The pink girl sat on the ground and listened. She listened for hours while Marceline's fingers wove a new song, the sun shifting across the sky and eventually sinking with an orange sea into the horizon. Marceline finally said something.

"Hey, pinky." Marceline called out to her audience. "What's your name?"

"Princess Bubblegum." She grinned, proud of her regal title.

"No, dork, what's your _name_?" Marceline stood up and began to pick apples from the tree.

"Oh it's uh… Um." Princess Bubblegum stumbled over her words. "It's Bonnibel."

Marceline dropped the apples into her backpack and giggled. "Bonnibel?" Princess Bubblegum blushed, sitting in embarrassment while she watched Marceline sling the backpack over her shoulder and flash her a quick smile before leaving without even a hush of goodbye. A pink girl was left alone by an apple tree, while a vampire ventured off to find somewhere to sleep that night.

Marceline returned to the tall apple tree the next day, only to find a pink girl waiting for her in the shade. Bonnibel looked up at Marceline and smiled, "I brought you a sandwich."

Marceline hesitated. "I don't really eat sandwiches."

"Oh." Bonnibel seemed disappointed. "I was just trying to-"

"-Can I have the sandwich?" Bonnibel looked confused, but slowly handed her the sandwich. Marceline snatched it from Bubblegum's pink fingers and slid the tomato out, pressed it to her teeth, and drank the red from the cold fruit. Bubblegum watched in curiosity and awe.

"Wha- How did you do that?"

Marceline smiled, she had always loved shocking people.

And that's where their friendship started.

The girl glances down at the letter held in her hand again, a lump forming in her throat.

Bubblegum took note of all Marceline's tiny little details from that first encounter under the apple tree. For her, Marceline was a fresh taste of something adventurous and wild and new that Bubblegum had never experienced. Marceline lived the life Bubblegum was too afraid to live, she was _free_.

Marceline was the last thing on little Bonnibel's mind before she went to bed and the first thing that popped into her head when she woke up. She had _never _come across anyone like Marceline the Vampire Queen before. Bubblegum was completely and entirely consumed by _pure_ _fascination._

Maybe not _pure _fascination.

Marceline, on the other hand, was just glad she finally had someone again. Someone she could carry on a conversation with, Marceline was over 1000 years old, and yet she had never had a friend like Bubblegum. Someone who appreciated and took in everything Marceline said, someone who really and truly listened, attempted to understand every single word that crossed her tongue. Bubblegum was thirsty for adventure, and that was something Marceline could definitely provide.

"C'monnnnnn!" Marceline's pleading face was illuminated by the light flooding out onto her from Princess BUbblegum's open window.

"Marceline, I don't want to do this anymore…" Bubblegum sighed, sitting on the edge of the windowsill.

"Oh COME ON! You promised you would yesterday…." Marceline whined, sitting down next to Bubblegum on the windowsill, her long midnight hair cascading down her back.

"But… That was _before_ I was actually about to climb out my window." Bubblegum frowns and begins biting her pink fingernails.

"You promised you'd come to this party with me!" Marceline complains again, throwing her head back in dramatic frustration.

"Bu-but my parents said Why-Wolves are dangerous…"

"Oh, whatever! Live a little, Bonnibel!" Marceline steps onto the castle roof and takes Bubblegum's hand, attempting to pull her out the window.

Marceline liked pushing Bubblegum out of her comfort zone and making her squirm. However, she couldn't stand to see her unhappy. Marceline would much rather see Bubblegum smile. Marcleine would never tell anyone, but she would have done anything to see Bubblegum smile or burst out in girlish laughter. It always brightened Marceline's day to know that she could make someone smile.

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble." Marceline apologized for the tenth time, sitting on Bubblegum's pink and fluffy bed next to her.

"Stop apologizing." Bubblegum demanded with a blank expression, her arms crossed.

Marceline paused, letting the silence inflate the room like a balloon until she felt so small.

"… What did they say?" She asked.

"They just lectured me about my 'royal duties' and told me I needed to grow up and act like an adult." Bubblegum left out the part where they rambled about what a terrible influence Marceline is, and how she shouldn't spend time with her anymore.

"Grow up? You're only 16! That's stupid." Marceline huffed and crossed her arms, her face arranged in an angry crumple.

Bubblegum stared at Marceline's crumpled face for a moment, and then smiled.

She laughed and then wondered aloud, "Why do you even care so much?"

Marceline never answered.

Bubblegum stared at Marceline for awhile, same bright smile stuck on her face and her eyes shining. Marceline turned and noticed her staring in that strange way. Her distraught expression faded and she returned Bubblegum's smile with her own sharp-toothed grin.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Marceline asked with a laugh.

Bubblegum, like Marceline, never answered, even though the unfinished questions shared the same answer.

Marceline's smile disappeared, and she looked down toward the ground, her hair falling in her face.

"I really am sorry I got you in trouble…" Marceline said once again.

"Stoppppppp!"

"Really, the party wasn't even worth it."

"At least you got a new dress out of it though." Bubblegum laughed, noticing Marceline's new Why-Wolf skin dress.

Trying to stop thinking about it, the girl lets a single tear swim down her soft cheek and then opens the window in front of her. She looks down at the letter once more before tossing it out the window with her little pink hand.

_Marceline,_

_You always tell me that I'm your best friend, that no one in the world could ever replace me. But i think that you should know that one day, you will replace me. You deserve a better best friend than me, someone who can't control what they're saying most of the time, and spends the rest of the time rambling about the love of his life who left him. Yes, you'll grow up and when I'm gone you'll find new friends, you'll start a new life, a real one. You might even find someone you can share love with, the kind of love Betty and I shared. Marceline, don't ever be afraid to love someone. I know it's scary because they might not love you back, or maybe one day they could stop loving you, like Betty stopped loving me. Yes, love is very scary, but it is an animal that can't just be locked in a box. Remember that._

_-Simon Petrikov_


	9. The Backpack

"Gunter, did you move my crown?"

"Wenk."

"I need my crown, Gunter! This is not funny!" The Ice King shouts at the innocent penguin, his scrambled thoughts beginning to organize. He runs around the room, frantically checking under his furniture for his bejeweled life-support. As Gunter slinks into hiding, something is whispering to the Ice King. An overwhelming whisper, _panicpanicpanicyouhaven'twornitinthreedaysyouneedthi scrownitisyouronlychancetoli veitisyoursandyoursonlyfindi tfinditordie. _The whisper is harsh and raspy, a familiar evil tone curling around his mind and squeezing tight until it gets its way, like a boa constrictor.

"I'm trying!" The Ice King responds, rubbing his skinny blue fingers on his temple in an attempt to ease his headache. All around him, the underfoot spirits begin to fade, Ice King cannot see them anymore. Were his wizard eyes failing or had the disgusting, ghostly creatures finally left his sight? He stands in awe, amazed by his at last empty home.

His headache begins to sting even worse, pounding at his skull and tugging at his brain, urging him to hurry up and find the crown. Although, Si- … The Ice King suddenly isn't so sure he really wants to find the crown. If he does, the creepy-crawly spirits will be back, so will the visions. But, his head hurts so bad, and suddenly, he's so cold… Maybe he should go find M-

The Ice King falls to his knees, the headache is so painful, the raspy voice screaming to find the crown or else he will die. He crawls across the room, groaning in agony. As he looks under the bed, searching through the dirt and dust, he spots his crown in the darkness, in all it's golden glory. He reaches out, sighing with relief as he wraps his fingers around the cool, smooth texture of the crown. As Ice King pulls the crown from the darkness, he notices something is stuck to one of the tall arches of the crown. It is a strange and worn backpack, covered in dust and dirt.

Curious, Simon unzips the backpack.

It is filled with letters, greyed by time and faded by preservation.

Simon carefully pulls out one of the letters, crown still held tight in his opposite hand.

_Marceline,_

_I hope you are doing well. I have finally found a home to live in, maybe you could come and visit some time. The visions, they've been coming and going. I can tell that the end of the road is near for Simon Petrikov. I keep trying, Marcy, I really do. I focus as hard as I can but I just can't stay here, it keeps pulling me away. Why is this my burden? Why was I chosen to inherit this damned crown? What have I ever done to deserve this, Marceline? Betty and I, we were so happy. We were going to get married in June, buy a nice little house close to the research lab, start a family. Betty wanted children so badly, she wanted a son more than anything. We'd stay up late talking about what wonderful people our kids would grow up to be, she would never stop smiling. I love her so much. Then I just had to find that book and then the crown and I ruined everything. It's all my fault. I'm sorry I had to leave you, Marceline. I don't want anybody to see me in such horrible state again, so horrible that my fiancé cut me out of her life as fast as she could. I can't bare that again._

_-Simon_

They all began and ended the same, sad stories and apologies in the middle. Who the hell had written all these letters? What were they in his house for? For a moment, as Simon puts the crown back on his head, there is a small spark of guilt inside him, although he's not quite sure what for. The Ice King brushes it off and breathes a sigh of relief.

"Finally, the headache's gone. Gunter? Where'd you go?" He calls out, but no response. He shrugs nonchalantly and drags the big backpack toward the window. Ice King hesitates for a moment, a thread of remorse holding him back. Despite it, he dumps the contents of the backpack out of the window anyway, grinning and waving at the papers as they are guided away by the cold wind.

Simon… Where had he heard that before, Ice King wonders. Perhaps, the name of an old friend.

No, he remembers. Simon is what that sad-looking girl had been screaming at him the other day.

The Ice King was walking through the woods, looking for a stick. Suddenly, he heard music, a lady singing with a beautiful voice. He followed the sound until he found the singer, a skinny girl with long midnight hair. She noticed him watching, and her sad eyes shined as she ran at him screaming, 'Simon! Simon! You came back!" She tried to wrap her arms around him, but the Ice King pushed her away.

"What are you doing crazy!" He demanded.

"Simon…?" The sad girl's face fell. "It's me… Don't you remember?"

The Ice King shook his head.

"C'mon! You have to remember! Look at me." The sad girl's voice turned watery. Ice king shifted in discomfort, then took a step back.

"You have a very nice voice. But I've never seen you before in my life!" Said the Ice King.

"I'm sorry." Simon added.


	10. Snip Snip

**Please, don't kill me? I know I've been gone for a month and blah blah blah excuses... And this is really short... But I HAD to write ****_something_**** after the new Simon and Marcy episode... I'll try to start being more regular/frequent with these updates, but I can't promise anything. Don't worry, they'll be longer from now on. Anyway, enjoy this sucky piece of writing I did.**

**-Sam-**

"I like your old hair better." Marceline declared, holding up a newspaper clipping of Simon when he was much younger.

"Really? I felt like the new do was really working for me." Simon joked. "And I wanna be just like you!" Simon poked her cheek and went back to cooking the canned corn over their bonfire. Marceline chuckled, running her fingers through her long, dark hair. She inched closer to Simon and tugged at his sleeve.

"Let's cut your hair!" Marceline suggested with excitement.

"No, no I don't think so…" Simon shrugged her off and continued staring deep into the flames of the bonfire before them. Marceline huffed and crossed her arms, furrowing her brow, hoping Simon would notice and give in to her bratty act.

She waited.

Simon watched the fire.

She gave up.

Simon watched the fire.

Marceline gave one more huff, and crawled away towards Simon's cluttered backpack, cast aside by the tired old man in his haste to get Marceline her dinner as soon as possible, all because he heard her stomach moan. Marceline considered the backpack for a moment, taking in the gains and tears fixed up with duct tape.

She had an idea that painted a mischievous grin on her 6-and-three-quarters-year-old face.

Marceline rugged through the backpack, sifting through all the useless junk that had been collected on their journey, until she pulled out exactly what she had been searching for.

A pair of rusty purple kindergarten scissors.

It was silent for a moment, no sound but the fire crackling and the 'mysterious beings' rustling through the night-time forest.

Then,

_snip_

_snip_

_snipsnipsnip_

_snipsnip_

Simon whipped his head around to check on Marceline, "Marceline, what are you doing?!"

Marceline stepped towards the fire, the glow illuminating her new hair cut. Her midnight black hair hung short, choppy and completely uneven just below her ears.

She held the scissors like a first prize trophy.

"Marceline, what have you-"

"You said you wanted to be like me, so cut your hair!" Marceline thrusted the scissors towards him insistently.

Simon laughed a little and accepted the scissors, taking them from Marceline's tiny fingers.

Simon watched Marceline sleep by the light of the fire, pen and paper in his hand, his new short haircut settling just above his ears. Simon sent Marceline off to bed after fixing her choppy hair-do, with a laugh in her lungs and canned corn in her stomach.

_Marceline,_

_You're right, short hair does suit me better. I'll never forget the day you cut your hair just so I would cut mine. You're a clever little handful. I love you Marceline._

_-Simon_


	11. Fries

Her feet ache from walking, her backpack pains her shoulders with its weight. Marceline has been walking for far too long, her eyes sting from all the sleepless nights, and all she needs right now is a safe place to sleep. At 14, she is strong, but not strong enough to stay up for two days straight. Her feet crunch on the rubble, a dusty city ruins surrounding her. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and rain drops begin to dribble from the brown sky, polluted rainwater forming puddles in the asphalt cracks of the road. The rain begins to fall harder, and Marceline looks around for some kind of shelter, hoping she can find some kind of building that wasn't blown to pieces. A flickering sign shines above the rubble, "Eat" blares at her in glowing orange letters, an abandoned restaurant just ahead. Marceline breaks into a slight jog, the fast food joint inching closer and closer until she was standing outside, looking through the windows in observation.

"It looks safe…" She reassures herself, giving the place one last look. She notices something.

There are french fries on that table. Yum.

French Fries are sitting 15 feet away, calling out to her. Those fries are now her only destination, her stomach moans in agreement. They look so delectable, all alone on the table.

She hadn't had fries since… She couldn't even remember when.

Marceline doesn't notice the larger shadow prowling the perimeter of the restaurant, doesn't feel its evil presence lurking through the cover of the rain, it doesn't notice her either.

They're both really hungry, though.

Marceline looks around at the surrounding rubble. A bright blue stool on wheels sticks out, and Marceline feels a twist in her stomach as she pulls the chair from the wreckage and carries it back over to the window. First she hesitates. And then suddenly the chair is out of her fingers and through the glass and on the floor of the restaurant, bathing in a puddle of shards. She steps through the broken window, the glass crunching under her too-small sandals. Looking back at the broken window, she whispers for her own sanity,

"Vandalism is wrong."

Letting out a heavy sigh, Marceline heads toward the french fries, her stomach moaning. An uneasy feeling settles upon her.

This was someone's business, it was where they spent every day, and most of their life. Maybe they had a big family, 4 kids that worked in the restaurant after school and spent quality time playing board games. Maybe they didn't have much money but they were happy because they just had each other. Or maybe it was just the owner and their spouse, but they were content with just the two of them in their apartment, paying bills with french fries and burgers and watching TV in the dark all cuddled up on the couch. Or, maybe, the owner lived alone, with nobody but themselves to take care of but still plenty to worry about and be scared about of. If that were the case, Marceline could relate.

Either way, whoever they were, they were dead.

And that is precisely the reason she leaves money on the counter. She could not steal these fries knowing the owner was dead or gone, and she was still alive and well. She already had enough guilt on her shoulders.

"Ah, ketchup, that's what I need. Maybe there's some in the back?" She turns away and heads toward the condiments table. She swipes the cold red ketchup bottle, and shakes it to confirm that it is not empty, and fortunately it isn't.

She doesn't hear the crunching class behind her.

Or the footsteps across the cold linoleum floor.

Or the smacking and chewing and swallowing.

It is a desperate kind of devouring, not for taste, but because it needs to feed.

Smack.

Chew.

Gulp.

Smack.

Marceline doesn't notice anything until she turns around and heads back to the table with the ketchup. A smile lays on her face, she cannot wait to taste them.

A familiar face is illuminated by a single hanging light-fixture swaying back and forth.

A monster in a suit inhaling the french fries she had been so determined to have for her own. He looks up and sees her, coughing in surprise and nearly spitting out all the fries crammed in his mouth.

"Sp-Ca-I-Marceline!" He sputters, fireworks of potato flying from his lips.

Marceline sniffs, and rubs her eyes with her arm. It has been 10 years.

10 years since her father bothered to pay her a visit.

She only had one thing to say to him. "Daddy… Why?" Her voice cracks, and tears leak down her cheeks.

"Marceline, how've you been?"

"H-how… Have I-I been? _How have I been? _I've been terrible, 'Dad!' In case you didn't notice, I've been living _alone_ in the crumbles of whatever's left of the world, scrummaging for food and raising myself! In case you may have missed it, _the apocalypse happened. _You left your own daughter to her own devices during the _actual end of the world_. What kind of father does that?" Marceline fumes, as Hunson Abadeer calmly continues eating the cold and stale french fries. "Stop that!" She cries, knocking the fries off the table.

"Oh," He pouts. "Now you've ruined them."

"Dad! Are you even listening?"

"Oh, Marceline, don't be _so dramatic._ In case you've forgotten, you most certainly _did not_ raise yourself. And you were never alone."

"Excuse me?"

"Ugh, so dramatic. I can't." He sighs heavily and grins. "Marceline, we're together now. I can finally teach you about the family business!"

"I _know _about the family business, okay? And I don't want to be a part of it, and I don't want to be a part of your 'family' either. I have my own family." Marceline crosses her arms.

"Your own family?" Mr. Abadeer chuckles, his laugh is cold and condescending. "You mean that silly old man you followed around your whole childhood? He couldn't even keep himself together. _He doesn't even know who you are anymore._"

That really hit home, the tear start to build up again, Marceline's parting words to her father are shaky and watery.

"I hate you."

And with that, Marceline steps back over the crunchy glass, and out the window, just the way she came.

Her father is left alone in the dark diner, fries spilt on the floor, ruined.

"Tsk tsk tsk… What are we gonna do with you Marceline?" He tries to remain cool and calm, his teeth clenched tight as he grinds a frenchfry into the ground with the heel of his shiny shoe.

Outside, it is dark and the rain has gotten worse but Marceline doesn't care, she is angry she is upset and rain is just perfect for that kind of feeling. Her ponytail is falling out, stray hairs stumbling down her face, her clothes are sopping and her nose is stuffed and she can't stop thinking about chicken soup while she peels a stuck piece of paper off the bottom of her sandal. It is wet and smudged but she can somewhat read the smudged writing at the top of the page.

_Marceline,_

Marceline stops reading and throws the letter back to the concrete, muttering "I don't want to hear it tonight."

Why bother reading the musings of a ghost?


	12. Raspberry Jam

Marceline ducks to avoid the apple flying through the air towards her head. She laughs and grabs and spoonful of strawberry jam, flicking the jam through the air and hitting Finn straight in the face. She laughs even harder and ducks behind a fallen card table, a makeshift barricade in the ongoing food-war.

Finn licks the jam off his face with a _slurp_ and grins, snatching a tomato off the counter and hurling it over the cards table.

"Haha," he lets out a cry of victory as he hears the tomato hit his target with a _splat_. "Gotcha!"

He ducks, waiting for the retaliation to come flying over the card table, but there is nothing. "Marceline…?" Finn approaches the table slowly and cautiously, ready to dodge the attack he was anticipating. He quickly pushes the card table aside, only to find a tomato splattered on the tile floor, but no Marceline.

"What the… Oof!" Marceline darts out from her hiding place and tackles the human boy to the ground. "Buns! You got me…"

"What can I say? Super awesome vampire beats wimpy human boy every time." Marceline responds with a joking smile.

"Hey, I'm not a wimp…" Finn glares at the vampire queen, still pinned to the tile floor. Marceline shrugs nonchalantly and sits up, observing the mess that the food fight has made in her kitchen.

"You're cleaning this up."

"Oh c'mon… It's not my fault!"

"Hmm," Marceline considers. "Fine. I'll _help_ you clean this up."

"Mmmmmmmm okay!" Finn pushes Marceline off him and runs out of the room. "I'll get the mooooooop!"

Marceline smiles. Such an enthusiastic kid. His positive energy was refreshing to her, like a candle in the dark. She wishes she could be a great mentor for him, teach him life lessons and values. But messing around was so much more fun then teaching little boys about life. And anyway, what advice did she have to give about life? What had she accomplished in life? She was over 1000 years old and all she had to show was two lost families and a list of people she'd pushed away. She wanted to make sure Finn never ended up sad and lonely like her. She cared about him too much to let that happen. He was like a little brother to her.

Finn rummaged through Marceline's hallway closest, brushing away irrelevant items so he could find what he was looking for.

"Blugnuts! Where's that stupid mop?" He mutters as tosses an empty can of soup behind him, unearthing a worn piece of notebook paper. Something about the paper peaks Finn's interest, and he snatches it from the messy terrain of dust at the bottom of the closet.

_Marceline,_

_I hope and pray you never read these letters. I have treated you like a diary, and for that I am sorry. This crown is making me say things I don't know about and forget who Simon Petrikov really is. Soon, I plan on burning these letters, so that no one has to read the diary of a dying man. I can only hope that you will_

"Hey! Don't read that!" Marceline snatches the letter from Finn's chubby fingers. Marceline reads through the letter with a scowl on her face and throws it back into the closet. She sits against the wall holding her knees, closing her eyes sighing heavily at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know… I didn't mean to…" Marceline waves her hand for him to stop. She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes.

"It's okay, I've already read that one before."

"What do you mean?"

"Nevermind, it's not important… When I was a kid, y'know, after the days when my mom would patch me up, Simon used to be the one who'd patch me up and make everything okay. But he doesn't even know who I am anymore. It's hard for a kid like you to understand, it was hard for me to understand then too. But, I shouldn't complain. Everyone has their own problems."

"That's heavy stuff." Says Finn, scratching his head. "Your stories can really bum a guy out, Marceline."

"Sorry to trouble you." Marceline says sincerely. Finn stands up, brushing the dirt off his shorts. He smiles and holds out a hand to help Marceline up. She reaches for the mop at the back of the closet and hands it to Finn. "Let's finish cleaning, I don't want to live in a house with a sticky kitchen."

"This stinks." Finn complains, cleaning tomato sauce off the floor. "I came over here to jam out."

Marceline grins mischievously, eyeing the open jar on the counter. She reaches in, scooping a handful of raspberry goo from the glass jar. "We can still jam…"

_Splat._

Marceline is nailed straight in the face with raspberry jam just as she turns around, prepared to fire. Finn laughs, and licks the excess jam off of his hand.

"Ugh! Finn… I'm gonna kill you!" Marceline chuckles and chases after Finn, chucking raspberry jelly at him while he ducks behind furniture, the whole house ringing with laughter.

**Yes, this chapter was surprisingly not so depressing. At least I hope. What can I say, I was in a good mood. Sorry Finceline shippers but yeah... no. It ain't happenin'. So... Is it rasberry or rasPberry? Weirrrdd words! Gah, English is a dumb language right? Have a splendid day/evening! :3**

**-Sam**


	13. Stitches

"_I'm hurting you because I love you."_

A rag held tightly against her chest, it has been sewn and patched and re-stuffed repeatedly. Familiar words diffuse from her dry and chapped lips as she punctures her only friend with a dull needle.

"I'm hurting you because I love you."

_It was such a clear memory. Yet another stain in her empty childhood as she was handed a backpack of her own and received a apologetic pat on the head._

_"I wanted nothing but to protect you, your life, your happiness, your innocence. But now that… _**_its_**_ gotten much worse… I'm only making things harder for the inevitable. And the inevitable has arrived."_

_She had no idea what he had just said. "What's inevitababble?" _

_Releasing a heavy sigh, he responded. "It means unavoidable."_

_"Oh." She hugged the backpack against her chest with struggle, her arms growing tired under the weight. "Hey Simon, why do I need a backpack like you? Do you not want to share anymore?" She looked up at his changed face with concern._

_"No, Marcy… I'm going… On an… _adventure._" He chose his words carefully. _

_"What kind of adventure? Will we get to fight dragons this time? With real swords?" Marceline beamed with excitement._

_"I'm going on my own adventure. Alone"_

_Marceline drops the heavy backpack on the ground._

_"You're leaving?"_

_Simon hesitates. "Only for a day or two… I need to find myself again."_

_"But… You're right here"_

_"It doesn't feel that way, Marceline."_

_Tears threatened to descend down the little girl's cheeks, Simon couldn't bear it, so he bent down and gave little Marcy a hug. He gripped her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye._

_"Marceline, you will be just fine. Everything you need is in that backpack, and most of it you'll only need if you leave this shelter."_

_"This is just an old trailer." Marceline rolled her eyes at the beat-up mobile home they were standing in._

_Simon sighed remorsefully, and then stood up to leave. He had barely lifted his own backpack unto his shoulders before Marceline burst out with,_

_"You're not my friend anymore!" _

_Simon turned back toward the little girl who wore brave skin. Things were blurring in his mind, every day his memories were slowly being eaten. Although his childhood had been swallowed along with the shreds of memory of his own family, Marceline had remained the longest. _

_"You really mean that, Marceline?"_

_"…Not really… But…" Marceline's voice is watery yet dry. "It still hurts!"_

_"I'm hurting you because I love you."_

_"It doesn't feel like love."_

_Simon couldn't take it anymore, he turned on his heel and walked toward the door, but before closing the door behind him, he stops for a moment and utters a short, "Sorry, Gunter."_

Now Hambo was her only friend. Marceline promised Hambo that she would let him know what love really felt like. She would patch him up and protect him and make sure he never felt pain or misery. They had matching scars, him and her. His from too much loving and hers from pain and misery and abandonment. Hers weren't visible like Hambo's, but her felt so much worse. Deep in her heart, Marceline still believed the Simon would come back, having found himself and then they can be a family again, and maybe he would stop calling her Gunter.


End file.
